Sweet Dreams, Darling
by Selene Melia
Summary: A one-shot about a night in the Potter house. Future fic. H/Hr WARNING: EXTREME FLUFF ALERT. Potter Harmony Set story.


Thirty- one year old Harry Potter looked into a dark room, the only light emitting from a small, flower-shaped nightlight. He crept silently into the room, sure to make no sound as to wake the sleeping baby girl inhabiting it. He reached the crib and looked down.

Inside was a tiny baby girl, swaddled in pink blankets, her small thumb in her mouth. Her light brown hair was splayed out on the crib's mattress. Harry's face lit up at the sight of her.

He stayed there for a moment, just watching her chest rise and fall, her face seemingly happy as if enjoying her time in Dreamland.

Harry slowly bent downward to her face and pressed his lips to the soft, uncreased skin of her forehead. He breathed in her smell, that pure, rich baby scent he had smelt many times before.

Softly he said, "Sweet dreams, darling." Turning toward the door, he stopped one last time to sneak a peak at his baby daughter. Leaving the room, a smile hung on his face.

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Harry walked down the hallway again, stopping at a room whose door was cracked slightly, as if to hide that the inhabitant was still awake. This one's lights were all on and a young, brown-haired boy was seem playing on the floor with toy monster trucks, only they were magically attacking each other.

"Ash, lights out." Harry told the boy quietly. The boy looked up and frowned.

"But, Dad, the Avenger was just going to crush the Terminator." Ash wined. Harry cracked a small smirk.

"Mum says lights out." Harry stated simply. The small child's eyes widened in fear of his mother's wrath. He scampered into his bed, pulling the sheets over his face. Harry stepped cautiously over his son's many toys, making a mental note to get the boy to clean his mess up. He reached over and pulled the blanket from Ash's face, noting the wide chocolate brown eyes that reminded him so much of his wife's.

Harry gently placed a small kiss on his son's forehead and whispered, "Sweet dreams, darling."

"Nite, Dad." Ash replied, his voice already heavy with impending sleep. Harry made his way back to the hallway, shutting off the light, smiling to himself.

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Harry continued his inspection down the hall. He stopped outside a coral pink room, decorated with moving purple butterflies. A small girl with messy black hair was reading a book of fairy tales. Her hazel eyes were narrowed, staring intently at the words and pictures on the pages of her book. Harry smiled at the sight, though familiar, still made his heart soar. The girl looked just like her mother, all except her eyes, which she got from Harry's father.

"Time for bed, Juliet." Harry said, walking over to his daughter. She smiled sleepily at her father, and closed the book, placing it on her bedside table. She snuggled into soft blankets, her eyes still on Harry.

"Goodnight, Daddy." Juliet said, groggily, turning over on her mattress.

Harry walked over to her and placed a soft kiss on his daughter's forehead saying, "Sweet dreams, darling."

Harry quickly exited the room, shutting off the lights.

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Harry Potter walked stiffly down the hall, stopping, once again, at an open door with the light still on. Inside, an older boy could be seen, taping Quiddich posters up on his walls. The boy had ebony hair, like Harry, and emerald green eyes. The boy was a younger version of himself.

"James, Mum says its time to go to bed." Harry told his eldest son. The boy huffed, putting the poster he had been holding up with the rest of the papers. He climbed down off his bed and plopped down. Shoulders slumped and arms crossed, he looked up at his father.

"Dad, do I have to? I'm not tired yet." James said, sleep drifting into his words. Harry climbed onto the bed with him, putting his arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Now, are you sure about that?" Harry said, feeling James succumbing to sleep by the second. After a few moments, his son was completely asleep in his arms. _Well, _thought Harry, _he certainly didn't inherit his mum's stubbornness._

Harry then picked the boy up and placed him in his bed, kissed his forehead and said, "Sweet dreams, darling."

Put of pure curiosity, he picked up the poster James had been in the middle of hanging. It was a picture of Harry's best friend, Ron, playing for the Chudley Cannons. Silently laughing, he tip-toed out of the room and turn off the lights.

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Harry traveled down the long hallway once more.

Having completed his inspections, he finally rounded the corner and entered his own bedroom. On the bed, he found his beautiful wife. She had pulled her curly, not bushy, light brown hair from her face, so her chocolate brown eyes were easily visible to her husband. Her hands rested on her swollen stomach, large from carrying Harry's fifth child. As per usual, in her hands was a book, but only this time she was completing her lesson plans for the year.

When Harry walked in the room, she turned her head and smiled up at him.

"Hello, dear." She said, placing the leather covered book on her bedside table. Harry strode over to her, and placed a sweet kiss upon her lips. Unlike her daughter, his wife's smell was one no one else had, a combination of rose and jasmine.

"Hello, love." Harry replied, wrenching off his shirt and throwing it in the bedroom hamper. He then strode over the their bed and plopped down upon the sheets, causing his wife to jump and laugh.

"Did you get them all to bed alright?" she asked.

Harry chuckled, "Of course. When I threatened them with Mum coming in they went right to sleep." She scowled and looked at Harry with those deep brown orbs.

"I'm not that bad, am I?" she said, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. _Hormones, _Harry sighed.

"Not at all, love. They just know who wears the pants in this house." Harry said, knowing she would see the compliment and happily take it. He was right, for her face instantly brightened and the tears went away. His wife snuggled into him, her large stomach perfectly maneuvered so he would not get hit with it. They were experts in this field.

Harry lent down and softly kissed her forehead, saying, just as he did for his children, "Sweet dreams, darling."

His wife looked up, interest in her eyes.

"Why do you always say that?" she asked. Harry sighed, hoping she would never ask.

"Because, most of the time, my dreams are what many consider nightmares. I've gotten past them, but I don't want you to have them, too." He replied. Her face flushed and tears welled in her eyes once more. He started to rub circles on her back, trying to soothe her and calm her down.

"There, there, love, no one is going to take me away from you." Harry said, knowing this is what she wanted to hear. Her tears eventually dried up.

"Good, because if you die, I'm going to kill you." She said. Harry laughed. As smart as she was, when sleep was near, she never said anything even remotely intelligent. She would scold herself in the morning.

"Whatever you say, love. But now, I think someone wants to go t sleep." Harry said, placing her head into the crook of his neck. They were a perfect fit.

"Goodnight, dear." She said, sleep ready to overtake her.

Harry looked down at her sleeping mass and smiled. He looked back on his life, wondering how he, a parentless child forced into living with a family that despised him, could have gotten so lucky.

He had four beautiful children, and one on the way.

He had an amazing job teaching Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

And, he had a gorgeous wife, one that loved him not for his fame, but for himself, and was his best friend. He married the girl of his dreams and gotten everything he had ever wanted.

Silently, in the darkness of their room, he heard Hermione say, "Sweet dreams, darling."

With that, Harry drifted off into a dreamless sleep, since no dream could be better then his life.

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This story is in correspondence with my other Harry Potter one-shot, A Picture's Worth A Thousand Words.

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise.

~Selene Melia


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